


Letters and Numbers

by Seawise_Giant



Series: I Don't Try Hard Enough to Finish Things [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seawise_Giant/pseuds/Seawise_Giant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Tags will be added with each new chapter, usually with comments on what occurs in the notes.)</p>
<p>Little things written because... well, just because, that's why. Each chapter is stand-alone and will usually have sex or sexual interactions in one manner or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've got to list things out or I'll never stop talking:  
> 1) CHAPTER SUMMARY: They're fucking. That's it. There's one word spoken in total and it's not even hot, I am so sorry.  
> 2) This is an example of the non-stuff I write, with a word restriction given to me by a friend. I was one word away from reaching that 250.  
> 3) My hands are freezing, my laptop is seconds away from dying, and I smell food. There is no time to edit 249 words. I apologize.  
> 4) How do I use this site?????? The world may never know.

Stiles lets his head roll back at the well-aimed thrust, ribs expanding as he takes in a huge breath that rushes out of him as a shaky moan. The teen’s thighs tremble as his hips jerk minutely in time with Derek’s hurried thrusts, a pained little “guh” echoing out of his gaping mouth when the werewolf drags his eyes up from the view of his cock shoving into the leaner body, to the sight of the slicked corners of Stiles’ mouth. The tongue that slides out over fangs and then prods the red, still-stretched skin earns another sigh, though it has a soothed tone to it.

“Almost—” Derek announces as the range his hips are willing to travel dwindles into nonexistence, leaving him on too much of a high to feel somewhat inexperienced as he humps desperately against Stiles’ ass. The way the body below him accommodates to his movements has him digging teeth into his own lips and panting through his nose as he tumbles face-first over that fucking cliff with a full-body shudder and a grunt hidden in the back of his throat. His body stays bowed over Stiles until, after a moment, it straightens out and Derek lets his lower back slow the frenzied plunges. The whispered words of comfort in his ear, accompanied by the gentle rubs against his shoulder blades, nearly hushes his wrecked whimpers but, of course, they still bubble out anyway as he pushes his softening dick fully back into Stiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prelude to car sex?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 401 words (of something older), I think. There's more to it, but I didn't like it. I might come back to this and end it on a later note just because car sex. :')))))

It had been the fear, the need to protect and comfort, that pushed Derek. The scent of that panic settled deep in his lungs, made his eyes flash red and—fuck, oh _fuck_ , he just—Derek pulled Stiles in with a hand on the back of his neck. Urged their faces together with a growl.

He nuzzled against Stiles’ nose and jaw, grunting out assurances he couldn’t quite understand himself as his free hand smoothed over the fragile body, their lips colliding together and smearing the slurred words between them. Some part of him warned against it, but fangs tugged at tender lips anyway, a thrill sparking in his belly when the puffy skin parted with a soft groan and Derek could delve his tongue in. Lapping at the warmth and teeth there, the werewolf echoed the sound with fervor, clutching at the human’s neck with unrelenting claws as both their backs curved and stiffened. The arching marks left were merely superficial, just a weak threat to still the squirming boy who probably only felt a gentle pressure.

Because Derek wouldn’t hurt Stiles—too much? Needlessly? When welcome? He couldn’t—there were too many sides to take and too many situations and…

“Oh god, fuck, Derek—can we—not that I don’t love a seatbelt carving into my pelvis, but can we move this to the back?” Stiles gasped out, his hands prying away the other’s face from his own. That ever-active tongue swipes out to break the short line of saliva between them, his nose wrinkling at the cooled temperature of it. “Gross.”

Derek will admit that he might have bucked into the chatterbox’s ass once, twice, three times when he unbuckled the teen and ushered him between the front seats. Why use his hands anyway? They were clawed and they’d rip Stiles’ clothes and he’d never hear the end of it. Besides, it felt nice, even though he managed to smack the back of his skull on the roof. He forgot about that occurrence, in fact, when Stiles let out a breathy keen and ground back, ass riding the hard line of Derek’s clothed cock.

“Hurry _up_ ,” Derek snapped, his snarl plummeting into heaving breaths when Stiles untangled his limbs and grabbed at his own crotch after situating himself.

Pinching the fabric of the werewolf’s shirt, the teen beckoned the other closer with an equally frustrated yet teasing, “No, _you_ hurry up.”


End file.
